


(Day 15) Care

by mydwynter



Series: January Sherlock Vignette Challenge [15]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, January Sherlock Vignette Challenge, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 01:52:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydwynter/pseuds/mydwynter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Lestrade sets a pot of tea down on the coffee table and huddles up next to Mycroft on the sofa, duvet wrapped around him.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It's often something learned, the ability to be cared for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Day 15) Care

**Author's Note:**

> My mind rebels in stagnation. So every day for the month of January…well, I had PLANNED on posting a Sherlock vignette, born out of prompts from generators and friends alike, little pieces written quickly and posted, sketches made from words. But these best laid plans went massively aglay due to travel and illness, so I have a lot of catching up to do. January was a terrible time to do this, it turns out. Terrible.
> 
> Prompt: the fact that I was extremely poorly for a week and could barely put a sentence together through the haze of cold meds. Breathing is not, as it turns out, boring. Imagine that.

Lestrade sets a pot of tea down on the coffee table and huddles up next to Mycroft on the sofa, duvet wrapped around him.

"I could have had an assistant do this, you know," Mycroft rasps pathetically as he curls into himself, shivering. "You don't have to help me. You're not well either."

"But I'm on the mend," Lestrade says, and gently rubs his palm over the hillock of Mycroft's knee under the quilt. "And you helped me."

"That's different."

"How?" Lestrade asks, raising his eyebrow in bemusement.

Mycroft shifts uncomfortably. "Because."

With a chuckle, Lestrade leans over and kisses his cheek. "Well now I _know_ you're ill. That might be the least articulate explanation I've ever heard from you."

Mycroft pouts. 

Lestrade smiles at him fondly and tucks the quilt up around his shoulders. "What can I do? Are you warm enough?"

"Too warm," Mycroft says, and shrugs himself free.

"Hungry?"

"No."

"Are you thirsty? Do you need more tea?" Lestrade softly strokes Mycroft's hair back from his forehead.

He shakes his head. "Too sore."

"Your throat?" Lestrade skates the back of his fingers over Mycroft's adam's apple and down his sternum. Mycroft freezes, his eyes flashing suddenly wide. "What?" Lestrade asks, concerned. "Does that hurt?"

"No. On—on the contrary." Mycroft murmurs, blinking, "It…" He swallows with a stifled wince. "It feels…extremely nice."

A smile quirks the corner of Lestrade's mouth as he repeats the motion, and Mycroft's head lolls back onto the sofa cushions. He makes a quiet noise, whirring, like a blissed-out cat. Lestrade gets himself comfortable and starts petting Mycroft, the smile fully blooming at the sight of this particular man melting with pleasure. "Good?"

"It makes my nerve endings feel less…distraught."

"Good."

"Mmmhmm."

Lestrade stifles his cough with one hand while he continues putting Mycroft into a stupor. "You wouldn't have an assistant do _this,_ " he says, snuggling into the sofa cushions.

"Nnn-nn." With tiny movements so he doesn't disturb Lestrade's hand, Mycroft shakes his head.

"Lucky you have me, then."

Mycroft shovels his hand out from under the quilt and reaches for Lestrade's knee. He squeezes weakly. "Always," he says. "Always."


End file.
